The old lady, like a Nazi concentration camp instructor, ordered Zhang Jie to clean the room.
Every time she found a stain, she would charge an additional cleaning guidance fee, completely disregarding his injuries!
"Bullet casings under the bed! Fine 20!"
"Bloodstains on the windowsill! Fine 30!"
"Oh my god, this toilet! Fine 100!"
"Bullet holes in the wall... This has to be calculated per hole, 50 each!"
When Zhang Jie finally collapsed onto the barely clean sofa, the old lady was gracefully writing in a small lambskin ledger with a diamond-studded pen.
"Let me see... basic cleaning fee 200 dollars, special stain treatment fee 300 dollars, emotional distress fee 500 dollars, plus interest, that comes to... 1480 dollars."
"Isn't this usury?!"
Zhang Jie almost jumped off the sofa.
"This is called an 'incentivized installment plan'." The old lady closed the ledger with a righteous air, "By the way, a reminder, you must sort the trash before 8 PM tonight, otherwise..."
"Otherwise, another 200?"
"Clever!" The old lady snapped her fingers, her fake nail almost flying off, "Now, I'm going to deliver dinner to my dear granddaughter."
She walked to the door and suddenly turned around, the feather decoration on her wig swaying, "Oh, and Hannah is on night duty tonight, so if you suddenly get a wound infection and need emergency care... you know where the hospital is."
After the door closed, Zhang Jie stared blankly at the mold stains on the ceiling for ten minutes.
A number in the corner of his vision suddenly flickered:
[Stress Resistance: Lv0 (5/100)]
"To hell with proficiency."
He mumbled, struggling to get up and start sorting the piles of trash bags.
As he went through the third pizza box, a photo slipped out of it.
It was a picture of the original owner and the woman named Lisa, the edges of the photo were yellowed and curled, and on the back, written in red pen, were the words: Last chance - Lisa 2013.8.25.
Zhang Jie shook his head and threw the photo into the "recyclable" bag.
Goodbye! Damn Lisa!
[Hygiene Cleaning: Lv0 (3/100)]
The proficiency level in the bottom right corner of his vision flashed by.
He had more important things to do now: bandage his wound with that embarrassing Hello Kitty bandage, find clothes that didn't make him look like a homeless person, and then show up at the Continental Hotel exactly at eight.
That legendary sanctuary of the assassin world.
As for that devilish old lady and her mysterious nurse granddaughter?
To hell with them! He'd worry about them if he could survive tonight.
[Survival Instinct: Lv0 (10/100)]
The sunset outside the window gradually sank, casting a bloody glow over the dilapidated apartment.
Zhang Jie stood in front of the mirror, looking at the crooked bow bandage on his shoulder, and suddenly realized something: in this crazy world, Mrs. Schneider might be scarier than any assassin.
At least assassins give you a quick death, while this old lady can make you wish you were dead and still make you pay for it.
8 PM, mini-bar area of the Continental Hotel.
Zhang Jie stared at the amber whiskey, his fingers tapping restlessly on the bar.
The Continental Hotel's lounge was even more luxurious than he had imagined, with dark brown leather sofas, crystal chandeliers, and hidden doors behind classical oil paintings on the walls.
He imitated the movies, pretending to be sophisticated as he told the bartender, "Whiskey, no ice."
The bartender, Charon, was a bald, muscular black man with a scar running across his left eyebrow.
He glanced at Zhang Jie's ridiculous Hello Kitty bandage on his shoulder, his mouth twitching, "Newbie?"
"Just got the business card today." Zhang Jie tried to make his voice sound less nervous.
Charon pushed a glass of Macallan 18-year-old in front of him: "Thirty dollars."
He lowered his voice, "A friendly reminder, things aren't peaceful lately, finish your drink and go back to your room early."
Zhang Jie almost choked on the price but still pretended to be calm as he pulled out the last few bills left after Mrs. Schneider's "fine" that morning.
Zhang Jie was about to ask, when his peripheral vision caught sight of a man with gold-rimmed glasses sitting at the other end of the bar.
The man was wearing a custom suit, meticulously cleaning a pair of gold-rimmed glasses with a silk handkerchief.
When he put his glasses back on, the eyes behind the lenses were as cold as a snake's.
Zhang Jie's gaze briefly met his, and a chill immediately ran down his spine.
"Don't stare at 'The Professor'." Charon tapped the bar with a rag, "Yesterday he took out three people's eyes."
[Observation: Lv0 (5 → 6/100)]
Zhang Jie quickly lowered his head, only to be met by a rich scent of perfume.
A woman resembling Ana de Armas approached, leaning languidly against the bar in a scarlet backless dress, her red lips curved into a dangerous arc: "Charon~ The usual."
She was a very dashing actress.
Her nails were painted with a polish the same color as her dress, and on her right ring finger, she wore a uniquely shaped ring.
It was a silver serpent, its eyes two rubies.
"Veronica, I heard you succeeded in Venice?"
Charon pushed a Bloody Mary towards her.
The woman chuckled: "That senator?"
She took a sip of her drink, leaving a crimson lip print on the rim of the glass, "His wife paid more readily."
Her gaze suddenly turned to Zhang Jie, "And who is this?"
Just as the liquor slipped down his throat, a commotion suddenly erupted behind him.
"Clear the way! Doctor! We need a doctor!"
When Zhang Jie turned his head, the whiskey got stuck in his throat.
John, the man who had been as cold as death that afternoon, now stumbled into the lobby clutching his bleeding abdomen.
His black suit was soaked dark red with blood, his left hand hung limply, and his knuckles were a bloody mess.
Even more terrifying was his face, as pale as paper, his right eye so swollen he could barely open it, and streaks of blood still clinging to the corners of his mouth.
"What's going on...?"
Zhang Jie placed his glass on the bar, somewhat at a loss.
This doesn't match the plot, does it?
The entire lobby instantly fell silent.
All the impeccably dressed assassins stopped their conversations, some already quietly resting their hands on their gun handles, even though firearms were not allowed here.
Winston, the hotel manager who was always as elegant as a British butler, was the first to step forward and support the tottering John.
"John? My God, who did this to you?"
John shook his head, his bloody fingers leaving shocking red marks on the marble floor.
His gaze swept across the lobby, finally settling on Zhang Jie.
At that moment, Zhang Jie felt an electric current shoot up his spine.
"You, come help... help me..."
John reached out to him, then collapsed to the ground with a thud, like a felled oak tree.
[Medical: Lv0 (3 → 2/100)]
"Damn! Dropped again?!"
Zhang Jie watched the numbers in the corner of his vision, but his body had already instinctively rushed over.
He knelt in the pool of blood, frantically examining John's injuries.
It was a penetrating knife wound, on the right side of the abdomen, possibly damaging the liver.
Blood gushed out like a floodgate had opened, completely ruining John's expensive suit.
Winston squatted on the other side, already tearing off his tie and pressing it to the wound: "You know John?"
"Today... I saw him in the park this afternoon." Zhang Jie tried his best to remain calm, the Hello Kitty bandage looking particularly comical in the blood, "He gave me his business card."
Winston gave him a meaningful look, then turned to the approaching security guard and said, "Take John to the infirmary, and by the way,"
He pointed to Zhang Jie, "Take this... gentleman with you."
Two burly waiter-like men rushed over with a stretcher.